


The Legend of Martin the Warrior

by HebrewPrincess91



Category: Redwall Series - Brian Jacques
Genre: Alternate Universe, Blood and Injury, Complete, Gen, Healing, One Shot, Peace, Transformation, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-05
Updated: 2017-08-05
Packaged: 2018-12-11 11:59:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11713980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HebrewPrincess91/pseuds/HebrewPrincess91
Summary: AU. An exploration of the account of Martin the Warrior’s deeds as recounted in the bookRedwall. Martin lays in the snow grievously injured from battle, but is rescued by the good mice of Redwall Abbey. As he recovers from his injuries he comes to a crossroads he never expected. One-shot.





	The Legend of Martin the Warrior

The setting sun flooded Mossflower country with pale yellow light washing everything it touched with a watery golden hue. The mouse that lay in the snow feebly twitched his paw. He could feel his life flowing out of him with every heartbeat. The snow about him was stained red and grew redder still as the minutes dragged on. The mouse didn’t even have the strength the shiver as the chill of sunset gripped the land.

The mouse twitched his paw again. He had lost something, he needed to find it again. It had belonged to his father, he wanted to have it now as he died, it would almost be like having his father here as he passed on. The tip of his claw found the cold metal object, laying just to the side of him where he had dropped it when he collapsed. He stopped struggling now that he’d found it. A faint smile played about his whiskers. It was finished. He could die in peace now, knowing that Mossflower was free. Overhead the pale moon grew brighter as the day died, casting a silver light over the bloodstained snow.

 

* * *

 

“Over here, Mother Abbess, oh, you must hurry!”

“I’m hurrying Sister Columbine, I’m hurrying.”

The young mouse knelt next to the still form, cradling the injured mouse in her arms. “Mother Abbess, I don’t know if he’ll make it, please do something.” Usually composed, the sister’s voice was full of grief. Next to her flickered a lantern carelessly dropped in the snow, the candle struggling for life casting a ghastly shadow into the night.

Abbess Germaine gently knelt next to the injured mouse, loosing the rent armor she ran her paws over his grave wounds. “Oh, dear Warrior, what have you done for us?”

 

* * *

 

Light lanced into the warrior’s eyes as he woke. The air was bright and luminous as golden light illuminated swirling dust motes. _This can’t be the Dark Forest,_ he thought, _there is far to much light here._ As his eyes adjusted he realized he was laying in a room of red sandstone. He tried to sit up, but only managed to lift his head a fraction. Dropping his head back onto the pillow he stared up at he ceiling.

“Hello?” he called into the seemingly empty room. His voice was faint to his own ears, almost as if coming from a distance. He wasn’t sure if his voice really was that weak, or if if maybe his hearing was damaged. Or maybe he was dead? Maybe there was no Dark Forest, just a clean room filled with light.

There was a scuffling sound of pawsteps and an elderly mouse wearing a brown robe came into view. Her face was wrinkled and her whiskers were grey, but her eyes shone with a pure kindness. “Hello, Warrior, it is good to see you awake.”

He realized where he must be. “Am I in the Abbey?”

“Yes, Warrior, you are in the Abbey, I am Abbess Germaine. You have lain here recovering for over a fortnight now. I was afraid you weren’t going to make it after that dreadful battle.”

“And the cat?” He tried to sit up again, but still didn’t have the strength.

The Abbess gently pressed him back onto the bed. “Be still Warrior, you are weak,” she said, then her voice took on a more somber tone, “the wildcat will plague us no more. You fought bravely and the vermin have fled. Mossflower is free again.”

He lay back without resistance. Knowing that he had succeeded flooded him with relief. Now he could rest without worry.

His head had barely touched the pillow before he struggled to sit up again. “What about my sword?”

Abbess Germaine once again pushed him gently into the pillow. “You need not worry, Warrior, it is close to paw even now. You called for it in your sleep and it’s presence seemed to comfort you.”

He groped with his right paw until he found the hilt. The sword was laying alongside him in the bed. He relaxed again, his paw firmly wrapped around the hilt.

“Now tell me, Warrior,” said the Abbess, “what name do you go by?”

He looked up at the Abbess once again, once more taking in her kind and gentle face.

“I am Martin the Warrior.”

 

* * *

 

The early summer sun beamed warmly over the grounds of the Abbey, a long winter finally giving way to summer heat. Sister Columbine watched as Abbess Germaine and Martin walked together through the Abbess’s herb garden. He seemed to be fully recovered now, and was holding a basket for the Abbess while she collected the fresh plants.

She reflected that she had met him only briefly before he was injured; it had been she who had undertaken the dangerous task of leaving the besieged Abbey to find help. She had found Martin and pleaded with him for aid. He had agreed to help without hesitation, she had seen the goodness of his spirit in his willingness to aid them. And now? She could still see the goodness of his spirit, but he had been changed.

Columbine tried not to stare as she thought about the changes she had seen in the warrior. He and Abbess Germaine had taken to spending long hours in each others company, often in silence. It seemed that perhaps the Abbess was helping him with a spiritual recovery as well as a physical one.

The warrior and the Abbess stopped in front of large patch of yarrow. Germaine seemed to be explaining it’s medicinal properties to Martin. Columbine could just make out her words.

“Yarrow is a plant that stops bleeding, and is used to treat wounds. We used quite a lot on you when we found you injured. It saved your life as much as anything.”

Columbine smiled, Abbess Germaine was such a good mentor. She took pride in learning and teaching and passing on what she had to others. Martin was lucky to have such a guide.

The warrior’s voice caught on the breeze allowing Columbine to hear his response.

“Mother Abbess, what must I learn to become a healer?”

 

* * *

 

The late rose was in full bloom at summer’s end. It’s full red blooms open to the sun that warmed the late summer day. The grounds of the Abbey were completely empty, all creatures having gone into the great hall to hear the announcement. Filled with brothers and sisters the great hall was a sea of brown and green clad mice as far as the eye could see.

At the front of the hall stood Abbess Germaine, facing all the brothers and sisters. She raised her paws to catch everyone’s attention and quite the gathered creatures. A hush fell over the hall as everyone looked to her, rapt, waiting for her to speak.

“Gentle sisters and brothers, we have gathered today in freedom and peace all because of the efforts of one mouse, Martin. Martin has lived with us these many months and has seen our order and our way of life. He was willing to sacrifice everything for our freedom, and since the battle has been living and working amongst us. Now he has something to say that I think will change this Abbey forever.”

Germaine motioned for Martin to come forward. Martin rose from his seat among the brothers and stood in front of Abbess Germaine. His voice was loud and clear over the assembly as he began to speak, “Mother Abbess, brothers and sisters, today I have decided to leave the life of the warrior. I will no longer kill any other creature, but instead live a life of peace here in the Abbey. I will renounce the sword and join your order. I will fight no more forever. I will be a mouse of peace.”

An excited whisper raced through the assembled mice. Abbess Germaine once again raised her hands to quite the gathering.

“With such a declaration I accept Martin into the Order of Redwall Abbey. Kneel, Martin, for your investiture.”

The former warrior knelt before the aged Abbess. A new habit was brought out and he was clothed in the simple cloth of the order.

Abbess Germaine looked at the humble mouse kneeling before her, his head bowed. She had a feeling that this mouse would go on to be the greatest mouse of Redwall Abbey. Long after all others here were forgotten, Martin would be remembered.

Placing her paws on his head, she said, “Rise, Brother Martin.”


End file.
